


Nothing like coming home in a transport

by TFALokiwriter



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Katrina deserved better, Klingon Transport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 12:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12653475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFALokiwriter/pseuds/TFALokiwriter
Summary: to find out a number of things isn't how Katrina expected it to go.





	Nothing like coming home in a transport

Katrina awoke within a small , cramped transport. Her body flt as though it had been electrocuted. Her forehead ached. Loudly, annoyingly, and painfully. Her entire head was ringing in pain As though she had smashed it against granite at least once.  The last she recalled was, _"At least you won't die in a cage._ " She could see the backside of a chair. The pointy head of a Klingon with forehead ridges decorating to the back.  
  
"Good morning, Admiral Katrina," the familiar long drawn out 'k' and 'a' . The backside of the woman's brownish gray cranium was visible to her eyes. Katrina saw the woman's red spikes from the Klingons shoulders.  
  
"Did you have to put me against the electrical generator?" Katrina asked.

"To save your life," L'Rell said. "it was."

"Looks like I owe you one," Katrina said. "ow, my head."  
  
"You must rest, admiral," L'Rell said.  Her voice soothing to hear. Not high pitched or loud enough to make her headache worse.  
  
"How long have I been resting?" Katrina asked.  
  
"Four hours is not enough for a warrior," L'Rell said.  
  
"Soldier,"  Katrina corrected.  
  
"Soldier," L'Rell said. "If I were to serve for your federation. . would I be an asset or a soldier?" the new word felt strange off her tongue. A sense of belonging, a sense of honor, and a sense of honoring her family. Avenging them in what way she could do.  
  
"You would be an asset," Katrina said. "I can give you immunity."  
  
"You will need to do that," L'Rell said.

"Hm?" Katrina asked.  
  
"There is a Klingon planted among the Discovery crew," L'Rell said. It dawned on the older woman. She knew exactly who L'Rell was going to say. It twisted her stomach. "It is my fault that he landed there. He calls himself Ash Tyler. But he is not. He is Voq, son of none, house of T'Kuvma. I did not approve of the Matriarchs decision," L'Rell bitterly added. "My closest friend, the one I pledged my loyalty to, going off in that end was dishonorable. I stand accused of an act that he accuses me that I did without his consent."  
  
"And did you?" Katrina asked.  
  
"That is no way to live as a Klingon," L'Rell said.  
  
"Ash Tyler is a real human," Katrina said.  
  
" _Was_ ," L'Rell said. "It was Voq who killed him," the blood drained from Katrina's head. "After they used the mind sifter."  
  
"Your idea, wasn't it," Katrina said.  
  
"No, the Matriarchs," L'Rell said. "I was given a prison ship and a command. It was easy to find the USS Yeager's crew from the Klingons who had taken them." Katrina looked off sadly toward the view of space passing them. She was wrong, and that saddened her. "Tyler's remaining crewmen were the only ones living in the ship. It was easy to slip him in after all that surgery to replicate Tyler's look. . . Perhaps T'Kuvma's hunger for war is what lead to the death of my family." Katrina was silent absorbing in the information. "Do you wish to know how we survived the first six months?"  
  
"I can assume," Katrina said, finally. "This changes everything." Katrina closed her eyes with regret and guilt. "We scapegoated the wrong person."    
  
"Scapegoat," L'Rell said.  "What does that mean?"  
  
"Someone blamed for the faults of others," Katrina said. "We blamed Michael Burnham."  
  
"Oh," L'Rell said.    
  
Katrina lost consciousness and her head fell to the side. The bleeding from beneath her nose had stopped above her lips. Her eyes remained closed until the sound of a transporter being used awoke her. She was barely awake. Half lucid, in fact, as a flurry of medical whites entered her vision with contrasting skin tones. The lighting in sick bay was bright compared to the darker golden-brown interior that she had been used to. The pain in her forehead had subsided being less worse than it had been before.  
  
"L'Rell," Katrina managed to speak. "She has to be given diplomatic immunity."     
  
Katrina can see from the other end of the forcefield that L'Rell appeared to be banged up. Both sides of her face was scarred with the red painting down her gray-brown skin. Her left eye was worse than her right eye and seemed to be open for an eye transplant. L'Rell's chainmail like outfit was torn and sliced at some points. A dark doctor with a graying goatee with two bands of hair connecting along his cheek was beside her taking notes on her injuries that had to be treated. The hiss of a hypospray came to the side of her neck and she returned into her personal, dark welcoming darkness.  
  
"L'Rell. . ." Katrina said.

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> One of many ways to fix what happened in 'to have peace, you must go to war'. This is my first entry.


End file.
